


Nights In White Satin

by Daryl_Alenko



Series: Trope Challenge [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Just Wants Merlin to Marry, M/M, Merlin is having none of it, Sassy Merlin, Secret Relationship, Trope Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28503168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: Merlin is secretly, and completely, in love. Unfortunately, Arthur has gotten it in his head to try and marry his manservant/best friend off.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/?
Series: Trope Challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086479
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Nights In White Satin

**Author's Note:**

> Trope 2 - Secret Relationship

* * *

The castle is in an uproar. The King and Queen are entertaining a visiting noble family, which means that Merlin finds himself running about like a chicken with his head cut off. He's had to polish Arthur's armor, make sure that Gwen's best dress is ready, brief the kitchens on the dietary needs of their guests, polish the swords of Arthur's trusted knights, and make sure that the guest wing is ready for the arrival.

Honestly, it feels as if it's been years since he's worked this hard. And it has. Arthur is usually content to leave the details to other servants, but apparently, this is a very meaningful visit. The prat King had actually told Merlin that he trusted him above all others to make the preparations. That had been touching, even if it meant so much extra work. 

So, he finds himself running through the halls of the Castle, his arms full of folded clothes, a cloth sack clutched in his hands as he struggles to keep from dropping anything. Or tripping over his own feet. Or thin air. Or a dozen other things, because he can be so very clumsy at times. 

Unfortunately, he obviously wasn't paying enough attention because just as he rounds a corner, he hits something solid and falls backward in an avalanche of cloth.

"Oh! Dear me! I'm so sorry, m'lord. I should have been watching where I was going." The feminine voice draws him up short, extinguishing the exasperated comment he was preparing to make. He crawls up to his knees, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh, please, don't apologize! I wasn't watching out well enough. And I'm really not a lord." He finds it a novel, if not odd, thought. He had not been knighted or offered any elevation as Lancelot and the others had. He is still ... just a servant. Some days, he's perfectly fine with that. Others? Well .. everyone has their off days.

The woman who is knelt before him, picking up her own scattered things, is pretty. She has bright red, curly hair that is a tousled mess flowing about the shoulders of the surprisingly expensive looking green dress she's clad in. Her feet are bare as she climbs to them, her own arms now full of laundry. 

"Oh. Well, I mean, you have a lordly baring, sir." She stumbles and fumbles over her words, hugging her burden close even as he finishes picking up his own.

"Please, call me Merlin." His eyes widen when she executes a perfect, graceful curtsy with her arms so full.

"A pleasure to meet you, Merlin. They call me Merel." Merlin smiles warmly, grabbing up his bag and bowing as best he can to her. 

"Pleasure to meet you, Merel. I don't think I've seen you before." He finds himself struggling to place her, pretty sure he should be well versed in all of the Castle servants. She giggles, and he blushes, taken aback by his own reaction. 

"I should think not, Merlin. I am Lady Jane's handmaid. She sent me and Lord Jason's manservant ahead to make sure everything is prepared for them. I have been trying to find their rooms, but I seem turned about a bit." Merlin internally curses. He had managed to trod upon the Lady's personal servant? He will be lucky if Arthur doesn't blow his bloody top over this!

"Oh! You are in the very wrong area, actually. It's alright. I got turned about a lot when I first got here. Follow me." He turns, nodding in the direction he had just come from. She giggles as she falls into step with him.

"You weren't born into your position?" She seems utterly perplexed by this, and he chuckles softly. He knows that his entire situation is foreign to most people, having not been raised in this area or for the job he has been given. 

"No, not in the least. I wasn't even born in Camelot. I was born in another kingdom, but was sent here by my Mum to intern with a friend of hers. He's the court Physician. But, shortly after I arrived, I saved the life of, at the time, Prince Arthur. His Father named me his manservant, and I've had the position since." Her eyes light up, and she looks in awe. He knows, to those born to be something like this, it is probably considered the best privilege, the best position, but he just can't view it that way. He knows that if he wasn't destined to protect Arthur, he would've left the position the first chance he got. In fact, if Kilgharrah hadn't informed him of their shared destiny, he's not sure he would've stayed in Camelot at all. 

It's hard to stay in a kingdom that would have you burned for your very nature. On some days, when he is gripped by melancholy and internal pain, he thinks about telling Arthur the truth of his magic. On those days, he thinks he might have a death wish. 

"Oh, my! I cannae imagine being raised to such a position. You are truly blessed, Merlin." The warlock finds himself rolling his eyes where Merel cannot see. He will never understand the mindset of some people. But, neither will he say anything against it. To each their own beliefs, as long as they do not threaten others. 

It doesn't take long for the two to reach the guest wing, both of them navigating clumsily with their burdens.

"Thank you so much for your help, Merlin. I look forward to speaking again." Merel curtsies and disappears into the room, leaving Merlin smiling like a bit of a fool. He knows that he's a little .. naive, still, wanting to believe the best in people, but it's not something he thinks will ever fully leave him. It is also one of the things a certain someone loves about him, so he's not about to rush to change.

* * *

Arthur is sitting behind his desk in the room he shares with his wife, Gwen. Though he railed against it when he was younger, he has found no end of happiness in married life. Gwen is patient, kind, and attentive. He is so happy, in fact, that he has found himself pondering the state of his friends. One in particular.

Merlin. A man that was once little more than his servant, but is now his truest, best friend. The two of them have been through so much together and Arthur wishes his friend to be happy. Given the fact that marriage has made -him- so happy, he assumes it will do the same for his servant. Now, if he could just find someone worthy of the big eared idiot. 

Just thinking about Merlin brings a tiny, private smile to the King. He shuffles some of his papers around, glaring absently at the stacks of parchment he needs to deal with. If he were not preparing for a noble guest, he would likely have Merlin tackling these things. The fact that the servant can read has been a godsend to the royal. 

"Arthur ..." At first, the King doesn't hear the voice, still stuck in his thoughts of his best friend. "Oi! Clodpole!" The familiar 'insult' jerks him back to reality and he quickly wipes the small, fond smile off. It wouldn't do to let his friend know that they are actually friends. No matter how much he values his manservant, Merlin is still just that .. a servant. 

"You can't talk to me that way, **Mer** lin." This is a familiar song and dance between them. It's another obvious sign of their friendship, and Arthur is grateful that he didn't have to give it up when his titles changed to King and Husband. He would be lost without Merlin.

Once again, he finds himself wanting to find happiness for his friend.

"As you say, Arthur."

"Where have you been, anyway? You're late. Later than usual." Arthur grabs up a piece of parchment, not actually bothering to read it as he listens for Merlin's reply. 

"Oh, well, as you know, I want nothing more than to be here serving you, Your Highness. But I was busy helping Lady Jane's handmaid find her way about the castle. Poor Merel was as lost and turned around as I was when I first got here, bless her!" Arthur perks up, quickly discarding the parchment when he hears that Merlin is already on a first name basis with the other servant. In all the time he has known him, Gwen was the only servant Merlin every showed a personal interest in, and even then it seemed to be nothing more than friendship. So, to hear him speak of a woman like this gives Arthur hope.

"So. You have a legitimate reason for being late for a change. Good on you, Merlin." He leans back in his seat, watching as his friend cleans up a small stack of laundry. It had taken a lot of gentle rebuffing for him to get Gwen to stop trying to clean everything up. Now that she's Queen, there are plenty of servants to do for her. She finally seems to be willing to let them do their job. "So, Merel, was it? Is she the .. pleasant sort?" After all, there's no way he could possibly allow some horrid shrew a chance at his Merlin. 

"Hmm? Oh, well. Yes, I supposed she's a pleasant enough sort. Talkative, nice. Seems happy with her lot in life." So far, so good!

"Hmm .. good, good. And was she also of a gentle nature? Or perhaps a comely appearance?" Arthur peeks over to where Merlin is working, close to holding his breath in hope.

"Oh, well, yeah, I 's'pose. She seemed of a friendly, kindly nature. And, yeah, pretty enough." Merlin seems a little perplexed by the line of questioning, and Arthur struggles not to smile or roll his eyes at his friend. Honestly, the manservant can be so dense sometimes. If he ever truly had a secret worth keeping, Arthur is sure he would know it instantly. 

So, nice, talkative as Merlin is, and pretty enough. This servant maid seems a worthy prospect thus far. Of course, he knows that he'll have to meet her, vet her himself. He isn't about to trust Merlin's future to someone he has not actually met! 

"Hmm. And did she travel with any companions beyond the other servant? A sibling or spouse?" Merlin blinks languidly and turns on a dime, his goofy features filling with a true anger that Arthur rarely sees.

"Now see here, you cabbagehead! You are -married-, Arthur Pendragon, and Gwen is a bloody saint to put up with you. You will -not- be doing .. whatever it is .. you are thinking of doing! Or I will stand back and -laugh- as she kicks your arse from one end of Camelot to the other!" With a huff that would be comical on any other day, Merlin turns and stomps from the room, leaving Arthur feeling confused. 

How had his vetting the servant girl on Merlin's behalf devolved into Merlin accusing him of cheating!? Sometimes, his friend gives him whiplash.

* * *

As angry as Merlin is with Arthur, he has to be thankful that the jackass hadn't decided to make him wear the 'official' getup for servants in Camelot. One time was -more- than enough, thank you. Of course, the fact that they both associate the uniform with Merlin nearly dying of poison might be why it hasn't made a reappearance. 

At the moment, he is standing to Arthur's side, back a little, while the King and Queen of Camelot welcome their guests. In truth, Merlin is already bored with all of this, but he is wearing his best, reserved smile and trying to at least -pretend- to be a good manservant. Of course, everyone in Camelot knows that to be the BS that it is, but the visiting nobles seem unperturbed by his presence. In fact, the Lord and Lady both smiled at him. He was so shocked to have his presence acknowledged, that he had been able to do little more than grin goofily. When he sees Merel peeking at him from her Lady's side, he even goes so far as to give her a little wave of his hand, moving only his wrist. Imagine his surprise when she giggles and waves big at him. So big, actually, that it draws the Lord and Lady's attention, which draws Arthur and Gwen's. The Lady giggles softly behind her hand and smiles broadly at Merlin, and then says something to Merel that causes the servant to blush a bit.

He will -never- understand such situations. 

"Oh, King Arthur, Queen Gwen, allow me to introduce my handmaid and dearest friend, Merel." The servant girl curtsies gracefully and cuts her gaze toward Merlin. He doesn't understand what the look is supposed to mean. Gwen smiles warmly at the servant, and without hesitation, she reaches out to touch Merlin on the arm. It catches him by surprise.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Merel. This is Merlin. He has been King Arthur's manservant for many years now, as well as my friend." Merel blushes even deeper, reaching up to push a few red curls off her forehead as she nods slowly.

"Oh, I've met dear Merlin before, your highness. He was kind enough to help me when I got lost in the castle." Gwen beams, her hand tightening on Merlin's arm affectionately. She has no doubt that her friend was as sweet and helpful as can be. It is, after all, his way. 

"That sounds just like our dear Merlin." Merlin feels himself beginning to blush, glancing at Arthur who looks .. so unlike himself. He looks openly pleased with the praise of his manservant, seeming more a proud friend than his King. It is so unusual as to be .. uncomfortable, despite being something he has secretly wished for for some time now. Acknowledgement of their friendship has always seemed just beyond his reach, but now .. Arthur is doing so .. because? He wants to impress a Lord and Lady in regards to servants? That seems highly unlikely. He wants to impress Gwen by taking her side in this? A little more plausible, but not quite right ... his eyes narrow and he scowls. If this is about Arthur's nagging toward Merel earlier, he will give the Prat King a right foul piece of his mind! "Come now. Let us retire inside." 

Arthur smiles warmly at the others before taking the hand of his wife and leading them all inside. 

There is something fishy about Arthur's pleasant attitude. He doesn't trust it one bit.

* * *

Once the visiting guests were shown to their wing, Arthur had dismissed Merlin to go to his room and freshen up with the explicit instructions to dress his best and come back before the evening meal. Honestly, he doesn't understand -why- he has to be dressed so well to serve! Not that he really has anything nice to wear. He doesn't make enough for something so frivolous.

So, he is -more- than surprised when he gets to his room and sees a hastily wrapped package on his bed. He narrows his eyes at it, trying not to be suspicious of something so innocuous, but honestly .. his life hasn't exactly been easy since coming to Camelot. So, in a move that is maybe just a tad paranoid, he grabs the broom from beside his door and tiptoes to his bed. He actually holds his breath as he carefully prods the package with the end of the broom. When nothing horrible and earth shattering happens, he breathes easy and settles down to open it.

Inside, are clothes. With shaking hands, he carefully pulls out a brand new tunic that is slightly too big for him. He can only imagine how it will look. It is the most beautiful, deep Pendragon red with black trim and laces. He delicately places it beside him before pulling out a pair of black breeches. They are of a sturdy, fine quality. They look like something Arthur or one of the Knights would wear when not in armour. They are definitely -not- something he would ever be able to afford. For the longest time, he just .. sits there. Staring at them. They are an enigma that make no sense. Who on -EARTH- would gift him something like this!?

Definitely -not- Arthur. Despite the prat telling him to dress his best, it would never occur to his friend that he could actually -help- Merlin with that task. So, definitely not from him. Gwen might have thought to do something like that years ago, but not anymore. She has far too many responsibilities now.

Gaius may as well be the Father he never knew, but he hardly makes more than Merlin and there's always something more important to purchase. 

He has been so wrapped up in pondering this, that he forgot to dispose of the wrapping. Just as he's balling the rough cloth up to toss with his washing, he sees a piece of wrinkled, frayed parchment drift down to the floor. When he picks it up, there is a messily drawn heart on it, and he can feel himself blush to the tips of his ears. Well, that's one mystery solved. His lover is obviously the one behind the gift, which shouldn't be so surprising. The man would know that Merlin is expected to dress well for tonight and has the money to spend on such a nice gift. 

He carefully folds the piece of parchment and sets it on his bedside table before scrambling to his feet. He becomes a whirlwind of activity as he pours water into his wash basin and scrubs himself down in all the important places, then uses the left over to carefully wash his hair. He jumps from foot to foot, breath hissing at the draft from his open window, before he manages to dry himself off and begin dressing. 

Do to a general state of nervousness coupled with the overwhelming happiness at his gift, he has to stop and restart dressing -four- times before he manages to make himself presentable. Even then, his hair is doing whatever it wants to. He smooths his tunic top down with a bit of a frown, glancing at his reflection in a piece of metal, as satisfied as he can be about something he's really not suited for. As far as he's concerned, he looks as ridiculous as he did when Arthur made him wear the official getup. 

The sooner this day is over, the better!

* * *

Arthur is already annoyed and the event hasn't even started yet! He feels over dressed in the finery he wears rather than his armor. He would much rather be in his chambers eating and picking on his manservant than entertaining their guests, but he isn't about to leave his poor wife to deal with this on her own. (Though the thought -did- cross his mind. Many times.) 

The Lord and Lady have yet to arrive, though he and Gwen are already sat at the table, waiting. Gwen patiently. Arthur feigning it. He has had to stop himself from tapping his fingers on the table top a dozen times already. He has twiddled his thumbs three times, and came very close to kicking the table leg in hopes of ending his extreme boredom.

Now, he finds his thoughts wandering in a last ditch effort to keep himself occupied. 

His first thought .. is about Merel. She had been a comely enough specimen. Plainly pretty and kind spoken. She carried herself more like a Lady than a servant, but did not seem to suffer any off putting airs ........ none of that is good enough for Merlin. He would not see his friend married to someone that is merely passable! Merlin is an extraordinary man that deserves so very much. 

He glances at the side and feels his insides swoop and dive, turning to squiggly mush when he sees his wife sitting beside him. She's beaming as usual, the very picture of maidenly beauty. Once more, he finds himself enveloped with the gushing warmth of the newly married, and suddenly, Merel isn't such a bad candidate for his best friend's happiness. As long as Merlin is capable of holding any kind of affection for the other servant, Arthur will be thrilled. He wants Merlin as settled down and happy as he is. 

The saying speak of the devil and he shall appear comes to mind when Arthur hears the usual clumsy steps of his best friend/manservant echoing down the corridor toward the dining hall. He cannot suppress the grin that he begins to wear, wondering what his fool has managed to dress in. Needless to say ... he is -NOT- prepared for the way the brat walks into the dining hall. 

His usual threadbare attire has been replaced by resplendent fabrics. The particular shade of Pendragon Red is overwhelming in it's allure, and Arthur swallows heavily. The material isn't tailored to fit, but that might be a 'good' thing. Because the collar of the material is loose, the thin black laces meant to tie it hanging loose, leaving tantalizing glimpses of his pale throat. When he moves just right, it also reveals perfectly pale swaths of collarbone and shoulder and when the hell had those become important areas!? The matching black breeches are in no way too big. Instead, they cleave to the servant's hips and thighs and where Merlin might seem a little too skinny and tall usually ... that can -NOT- be said of him at the moment. Hips that should look bony on the skinny lad are perfectly tapered, leading to thighs that look full and perfect hugged by the dark fabric. 

Arthur is perplexed as to why he suddenly feels .. annoyed. Protective. Stifled. He surely wants to leap up, cover Merlin in his cape and rush him from the room. Where that desire comes from, he has no clue. Nor is he about to indulge in it. Instead, he snaps his finger at the nearest servant, goblet held aloft. His confusing feelings trebles when he realizes that -none- of the servants have moved to fill the vessel. Because they are all, to the last ONE, staring at Merlin as he strides in. 

The King breathes a sigh of relief when Merlin snags a wine pitcher and b-lines straight to him. He even manages a bit of a strained smile for his friend.

"I must say, Merlin, you surely do not disappoint. You look amazing tonight!" Gwen's words trample right over Arthur, forcefully reminding the King that his Queen is sitting at his side and he had been ignoring her. In favor of gaping at Merlin's transformation. Yes, the sooner he can get his best friend married off, the better. For -everyone-. "I mean. Of course. You -always- look amazing, Merlin. Always have! Not that I'm noticing or anything ... oh, I thought I was past this." Gwen dips her head to hide her embarrassment, and Arthur knows that he should say something. Flatter her, or at least soothe her babble-embarrassed nerves or something but he cannot find words. Instead, he drinks half the goblet of wine in one go, though his throat samples no relief. It is still dried, cracked, on the verge of bleeding. 

"Thank you, your highness. You look as radiant as ever, my Queen." Gwen giggles like a -MAID- and Arthur angrily downs the rest of his wine. He is unsure who he's actually mad at, but he can feel the upset like imbalanced humours eating away at the pit of his stomach. 

"I must say, Merlin ... I was unaware that you possessed such attire. I had entertained the idea of sending you something, but it seems I would have had no need. Do I truly pay you so much that you can afford something so frivolous?" Yeah, okay .. he's perfectly aware that in this moment, he is the very picture of the Prat King that Merlin often accuses him of being, but he cannot help it. This is a brand new, toxic feeling gnawing away at him and he has not the first clue how the hell he's supposed to handle it! Lashing out has, unfortunately, always been his first response to an uncontrolled situation. Not the best of qualities for a ruler, but one he has always fallen prey to, none the less. 

Merlin actively rolls his eyes before pouring him more wine.

"His Royal Pratness pays me a fair wage, but not so fair that I could afford anything like this. It was a gift." Arthur's eyes narrow over the edge of his goblet, lashes fanning out over serpentine slits as he looks his friend up and down again. Trying to clock just how much the outfit must have cost. Who in their right minds would spend such an amount on the servant?? 

Well, had Lancelot not passed, he would more than likely have no problem buying something like this for Merlin. After all, Hunith had practically adopted the knight when he was staying with her in Ealdor. And he has always been close to Merlin .... -too- close, in fact, now that Arthur thinks about it. Upon meeting, Merlin had been all too happy to lend Lancelot his room and bed. Hell, he had done so for the drunken bastard Gwaine as well. He has never really seen a stranger as far as Merlin goes. The big eared fool is always too quick to trust, too quick to form an attachment. 

All of the knights are over protective of the servant. And that has nothing to do with his relationship to their King but -everything- to do with his own virtue. His own bravery. The lad may not weild a blade, but he is still on the front line, charging straight into danger with them.

Truth be told, it is another reason he is eager for his friend to settle down. Yes, it is usually Arthur that is the first to drag Merlin along, but with a new wife, he wouldn't be able to do so as often. Merlin would finally be forced to calm down and hopefully, sit on the side lines a bit more often. It is underhanded. It is cheap. But Arthur will not change it. It is the easiest way to keep his friend safe without having to appear to be doing so. Sometimes, shortcuts are worth it. No matter what Uther tried to teach him. 

Arthur shakes his head subtly, clearing his thoughts in just enough time to hear the announcement of the Lord and Lady arriving. Honestly, he cannot even be bothered to learn their names at this point. Their visit will be fleeting, not really worth his time. Though, he finds his eyes seeking out the servant girl, Merel. He blinks in surprise when he sees that she is dressed to the nines. Though Morgana had once treated Gwen as her dearest friend, she had never really given the woman a chance to dress in any way that shined. But Merel is a sight to behold. Her red hair has been piled atop her head in intricate braids that create an elfin crown. Her pale features kissed with the barest hint of color. Though she had been dressed fairly well earlier, she is decked in fabric as luxurious as what Merlin wears. An emerald green that brings out her eyes and intensifies her red hair. The cut of it is fitting for a Princess and seems to play up the elfin appearance. His eyes widen in surprise to see her feet are bare. 

Merel curtsies to the King and Queen with all the grace of a courtier before she moves to take up the spot behind her Lady's seat. Looking at her, she seems to mirror Merlin in position. Arthur is somewhat pleased by this.

He is -not-, however, pleased to see the eyes of both the Lord and Lady lingering on his servant. Though the subtle blush across Merel's cheeks when she spies Merlin is good. Right? I mean, it -should- be good, because he very much wants to find Merlin a wife. Right!? Offhandedly, he wonders if this is what madness might feel like.

Once the speeches are out of the way, he settles into his seat and breathes a little easier as Merlin begins to serve him and Gwen. Once their plates are settled, he actually smiles as he watches his friend move to the side table to begin serving the knights. 

Well, he smiles until he remembers that it might be one of the Knights that bought Merlin's new outfit. His gaze slices as truly as his blade, alighting on Gwaine's overly large smile. He clenches his teeth behind the rim of his goblet as he watches the handsy prick reach out to rub down Merlin's side. He can almost hear the flirtatious tone the man must be using as he makes a statement about how good Merlin looks. Even if he didn't know the braggart so well, the fact that Merlin blushes as dark as the Pendragon red would be more than sufficient proof of the kind of words Gwaine has spoken. 

He squeezes his goblet until his fingers ache. And with great difficulty, he forces himself to -concentrate-. Otherwise, he would miss the fact that Merlin does not, in any way, return the flirtation. He merely smiles in his friendly way and moves down the line. 

Elyan barely spares Merlin a glance, and Arthur cannot help but think that his brother-in-law is now his new favorite. Despite having known Leon and Gwaine longer. Though, while Leon has long since been his friend, he knows that Gwaine holds truer allegiance to Merlin than him. He should have a problem with that, but he doesn't. The knight has saved Merlin many times before and shows a respectful love for Camelot. The least he can do is approve the friendship. 

He watches Merlin frown at Elyan, but when it becomes clear the Knight has nothing to say to him, he shrugs his shoulders and moves on. Arthur is ashamed to admit, even if only in his own mind, that he finds himself utterly distracted by the shrug. It shifts the deep red fabric until the smooth expanse of his cream colored neck and shoulder is exposed. If the collarbone had nearly destroyed his mind, it is a wonder that this wondrous sight has not rendered him unconscious. Instead, he licks his dry lips and forces himself to push his goblet to the side, else he end the night completely wasted. While Merlin has driven him to drink on many an occasion, it has -never- been the result of Arthur trying to curb some insane sense of .. desire. 

With narrowed, withered eyes, he watches as Merlin approaches Leon and Percival. The two are engaged in a deep discussion that summarily ends the second Merlin steps into their shared line of sight. Both knights light up, Leon wearing a brighter than usual smile and Percival downright grinning at the big eared servant. Arthur's hand clenches, gaze straying toward the visitors, seeing Merel gazing longingly at Merlin from time to time. For some reason, her attentiveness does not send that burning deep into his gut. (He does not realize that a part of him has already come to understand that Merel doesn't stand a chance, and thus, poses no danger.)

Leon has hastily taken the pitcher from Merlin and is pouring out a glass. But rather than take it himself, he passes it to the servant with an encouraging grin. At the same time, Percival has snatched a particularly delicious looking meat pie and is trying to entice the servant into eating. Merlin, ever the slacker, grins boyishly at them and accepts both. He scarfs the pie in three large bites and then downs the entire goblet of wine with sweet, gracious smiles to them both before he seems to remember that he is -serving- the occasion and not attending it. 

"Merlin!" He snaps the name, teeth gnashing as he impatiently waves his manservant over. He is far too in his head to think of the younger man as a friend at the moment. It's one of the reasons he hasn't come right out and -told- Merlin that they are friends. Because there are still far too many days in which that does not seem true, and Merlin deserves better than that. When the manservant eagerly arrives at his side, he shoves his half drained goblet at the other man, sneering faintly as Merlin quickly fills it up. "Go and attend the visitors. Help Merel with her work. She is a guest too, after all." He finds that much of his enthusiasm for matching Merlin has waned these past minutes.

* * *

Merlin rolls his eyes but easily dismisses himself. Arthur must be deeper into his cups than he thought, to be so maudlin and snappy. It is like looking into the past, observing the Prat Prince that had made Merlin want to tear his hair out. Or enchant the poor bugger for a bit of fun. Honestly, if the man wasn't destined to be the greatest King Albion would ever know, he's pretty sure he would've done something drastic by now. Struck him with lightening or turned him into a toad. 

He crosses to the visitors, looking back in just enough time to see Arthur leering at poor Merel. He's half a mind to go do something! To pour wine down Arthur's trousers or drop soup in his hair for having the nerve to ogle some poor girl with his pretty, attentive wife -right there-. There are times when he internally curses his friendship with Arthur, though those times are few and far between. Nowhere near as frequent as when he first came to Camelot. He is loathed to admit it, else Arthur's ego finally grow beyond control, but the man has become one hell of a King. He is happy and proud to follow him. 

"Merlin!" Merel calls his name breathy and sweet and it immediately puts him on edge. Not that he allows that truth to show through. As kind as the woman has been, she makes him uncomfortable. Partially because he worries about the interest Arthur has shown in her, and partially because .. she makes him nervous. She reminds him of Gwen, when she used to stumble through her own version of awkward flirting. He had found it enduring and adorable, but had had no desire to flirt in return. "You look stunning tonight!" Merel is blushing faintly, unable to meet Merlin's gaze. Instead, staring somewhere along the floor, or maybe at her own feet. He's not really sure. (Doesn't really care, either. If he's being truthful, all he really cares about is getting through this evening so that he can sneak off and spend time where he -really- wants to spend it.)

"You look beautiful, Merel." He parrots the compliment, having been raised with manners by a strong, confident woman. His Mum is the greatest, strongest person he's ever known. He hopes that she will always be proud of him. He shakes his head when he realizes that someone is speaking to him.

" -- you really do look handsome tonight, Merlin. Would you care to join us?" His eyes widen a fraction, chiseled cheeks sinking in when he inhales sharply as the Lord does the unthinkable. Invites a -SERVANT- to dine with them! His cheeks are brushed with a violent hue of dusty rose pinks as he quickly shakes his head.

"Oh, thank you for such a rich compliment and invitation, m'Lord, but while I can accept the first, I cannot accept the second. My Master will expect me to attend him and the Knights. But thank you, for such a kind offer." Which is actually a lie. As much as it has been odd to him, being the servant of someone, he does not actually -want- to be treated as an equal in this situation. He has no desire to sit with a table full of strangers and suffer through trying to make small talk. He would have nothing in common with them! Not to mention the way Merel keeps peeking at him, somehow being both coy and overt at the same time.

He has never felt so very .. on display, before. And that's counting the times he's been in the stocks! Standing before these visitors, he feels every inch of their questing gazes and he really doesn't like it. In fact, he is already getting ready to retreat when Merel steps up to him. Boldly places a hand on his arm and bats her lashes in a way that he is sure is meant to be coquettish. Instead, it simply seems .. calculating. He feels as if he is being placed at the heart of some farce, though he doesn't actually believe them to be doing so. He is nothing, nobody, in no way worthy of mocking. 

"Please, Merlin. I am sure the King and Queen would be more than happy to allow you to rest a bit at our table. They seem so very kind and generous." Merlin swallows heavily, feels the thick tremble of his adams apple as it bobs and dips. He fears that Gwen would -definitely- insist that he stay, that he speak and charm them with his affable ways. And these days, Arthur is just as likely to go along with her rather than against her. Merlin cannot stand the idea of having to do this. He'd much rather be back across the hall where he belongs. 

"I --"

"Merlin!" Arthur's sharp bark has never been such a beautiful sound before! Merlin feels himself sagging in place, his arm naturally falling away from Merel's grasp. They assume he is withering for being called away, not realizing that he's sagging in utter relief. 

"Please, excuse me. My King needs me." He dips a stiff, graceless bow before turning and forcing himself to walk not -run- to Arthur's side. Once there, he quickly pours a goblet of wine, before offering the King a strained smile. "Sire?"

Arthur doesn't answer. He slowly drinks a good portion of the wine, eyes snapping between Merlin and Merel several times before he sets the goblet down. With slight hesitation, he takes Gwen's hand in his, turns to offer a red stained smile to his wife. That smile becomes a watery, transparent thing once he turns back toward his best friend. 

"Thank you, Merlin. For your service. For your loyalty all these years." Arthur releases his wife and stands, motioning toward the other table. The Lord and Lady stand, quickly crossing over to curtsy and bow as Arthur smiles at them both. "Forgive me for interrupting your meal, but I think it prudent that the four of us retire for a time and discuss something. It has not escaped my attention that your handmaid is fond of Merlin, and it would be a wonderful joining of happiness for them both, I think." Merlin's eyes widen and he immediately reaches out toward Arthur, who waves him away with another watery smile. "I think it is time that you attend your own happiness, Merlin. Settle down. Take that beautiful woman as your bride. Hunith would be more than happy to make the journey to attend your wedding, I'm sure." 

"Arthur! Please, will you --" Merlin's eyes have gotten so wide that it's actually painful. His words, however, seem to be falling on deaf ears.

"We wish to see Merel happy, your Highness, and she has not been able to stop speaking about Merlin since they met. We would be open to such a match." For a single second, Merlin wonders if he is somehow .. passed out. Or having a nightmare. Or if some kind of spell has managed to render him mute or invisible or something ELSE that would explain why Arthur isn't listening to him. 

"YOUR MAJESTY!!" Merlin practically roars the words, all conversation going silent in the hall as all eyes turn to him. Leon and Percival have gained their feet, both tense and less than thrilled. Gwaine is leaning back in his seat with a cheeky grin, and Elyan continues to nurse his wine. He swallows thickly, cheeks crimson with heat, hands grasping the edge of his new tunic shirt, almost shredding the material in his nervousness. "Please, Arthur ... Merel is a nice woman, pretty and sweet, but I do -not- wish to be married!" 

This .. this is a -lie-. In all truth, he very much wants to be married. He wants to be able to call the one he loves spouse, but he knows better. Some allowances might be made for private relationships, but to drag it into the open? He knows better. Wishes have never been fulfilled. 

"Merlin. Please. As your friend, not your King, I would see you happy, and I believe she could make you happy. I hate to see you alone." Merlin's fingers hook and curve, jagged nails snagging on the hem of his tunic. He can feel a few threads break free, unraveling into a mess, but he cannot stop himself. He hates to have so much attention on him, but he cannot allow Arthur to negotiate for his future without his consent. 

"I'm not alone, Arthur!" The words fly from his trembling lips without his permission. His nerves are so frazzled, in fact, that he makes grabby hands at the empty air, as if somehow believing that he can stuff the words back in and all will be well. He had -not- meant to say this. Had not meant to reveal the truth of a relationship that he has struggled so hard to keep secret. Not because he -wants- to, but because he -has- to. 

"What? But then .. damn it, Merlin! Why have we not met this woman, hmm? You must know that we would have no trouble hosting her. I am your -King-. It is my -right- to meet her!" Poor Arthur nearly shudders when he realizes that he is a few seconds from stomping his foot like a spoiled Princess, but that does not change his right to be outraged. Even if he weren't Merlin's King, he -is- his best friend, and as such, has the right to meet whoever managed to snag the man's heart. 

Merlin looks around frantically, wide eyes threatening to roll into the back of his skull as horror and fear grip his heart. This moment is even more stressful than any moment that threatened to finally expose his magic! He breathes heavily, chest heaving, cold sweat gathering on the edges of his brow as he struggles to find his voice. Struggles to stumble across the magical string of words that will make this all better without resorting to actual magic. 

"I .. it .. it's complicated, Arthur. Please ... please don't make me do this. Here. In front of everyone." There are not that many times he has begged or pleaded to his King, but he -has- to now, or else he will lose face when he loses what little composure he has left. Besides .. if he tells Arthur the truth in -private-, he might manage to save the reputation of his lover. Their mutual escape is too much to hope for, he knows. But as long as his love is alright ... he can deal with the rest of it. 

Arthur is frowning. Not unusual when faced with Merlin, but the look of almost sad compassion in his eyes .. that is brand new. The King gives a faint nod, before turning to the Hall.

"Please. Enjoy your meal. Excuse me." He grabs Merlin by the arm and hauls him out of the room and toward his chambers. Though Gwen shares them with him, he still forgets that they are -theirs- and not still just his.

* * *

Arthur settles behind his desk, kicking the chair opposite out and frowns deeper when Merlin drops so heavily into it. He has never seen the other man look so very burdened before, and that is saying something. Merlin has shouldered far too much since coming to Camelot, and Arthur wishes he didn't have to rely on him so much, but he does. In many ways that Arthur will -never- admit to, Merlin has helped him shape Camelot. 

"What on Earth is going on here, Merlin? How can -anything- with you be complicated? You're alone, you need someone that will care for you. Why is this so hard?" The King of Camelot crosses his arms before him, slouching back in his chair. He does not realize it, but he is putting off utterly petulant airs right now. Almost reminiscent of the teen he had been when Merlin first came to the kingdom. Meanwhile, Merlin is slouching in his chair as well. Only, his arms are hugged about his own slender waist, as if clinging to himself. In fact, Arthur half expects to watch Merlin curl up into a ball until he disappears on the spot. How can a simple conversation with him be paining the other man so very much!? Are they not friends? Have they not had far worse conversations than this before?? He grits his teeth, trying to force himself to be patient. It has -never- been his strong suit. 

"I .. it truly is ... complicated, Arthur." He murmurs, the words barely a whisper. It sounds .. deflated. Odd. So very much -not- Merlin. "I have nothing against Merel. She truly seems a sweet, nice woman. But, Arthur .. I .." The King finds himself leaning forward, scowling as he struggles to hear as Merlin continues to speak in such a soft, whispered tone. As if he's struggling to be heard at all. Struggling to make any noise.

"Merlin. Please. You .. are my best friend. I truly just want your happiness. Please tell me what's going on here." Those words are enough to shake Merlin up. To snap the other man out of his fading position. His back goes straight, his eyes widen with purpose. He looks utterly gobsmacked. As well he should! Arthur has just committed a cardinal sin .. he has -acknowledged- what they are. It makes Merlin happy deep inside, makes him feel warm and flush with pleasant feelings. It also makes his tongue a bit .. reckless. 

"I do not need you to set me up with someone, Arthur. I don't need you orchestrating a relationship for me, because I'm already in one!" The words rush out in a whoosh of overheated breath. They hang between them like a physical being, until Arthur snarls and slams the flat of his fist down onto his desk top.

"Seriously, Merlin? You are with someone and I am just NOW hearing about it!? As your King, your liege, and your FRIEND, I have the right to know something as important as this. Who is she, Merlin?" He watches as his friend begins to wither in his seat once more. As he curls into himself so effectively, that it feels as if the other man is going to cease to exist any minute now.

"It's not a --" Merlin's explanation is interrupted by a loud, abrasive banging at the chamber door. Arthur scowls, his anger finally beginning to reach boiling point. He's so angry, in fact, that he jumps from his chair and stomps toward the door, jerking it open with a roar.

"Now is -not- a good time! What could possibly --" Arthur grunts as he is pushed fiercely to the side by the mad dash entrance of Percival. The giant of a knight waltzes right past him and scoops Merlin up, into his arms. Cradling the smaller man close.

"Merlin! I just heard Gwen speaking about a marriage ... please, tell me it isn't true." Arthur has never heard the knight sound so scared before. It is a revelation he doesn't particularly like. The man is a giant and should never sound so .. reduced. Maybe this is why it is taking so long for him to register what this means.

"Percival." Merlin murmurs the name so soft and sweet that Arthur finds himself drawing up short. He also finds himself feeling out of place, as if he is intruding on a private moment. He shifts uncomfortably where he stands, arms crossed in front of him as he watches. "I am -not- getting married, I assure you. Arthur and Gwen mean well, but ... I have no interest in Merel." Arthur is shocked beyond words when Percival reaches out to cup Merlin by the cheeks and draw him into a tender kiss. 

Honestly, Arthur's pretty sure he's never been that delicate and loving toward GWEN, let alone seeing the giant do it to MERLIN of all people. After a few moments, he remembers his anger and indignation. He growls so fiercely, that Merlin jerks out of Percival's reach ... and then proceeds to idiotically put himself -between the Knight and King-. Arthur has seen Merlin do plenty of stupid things, but this takes the proverbial cake! He would think to stand in Arthur's way? Friends or no, he could easily cut the other man down if he so chose! This is laughable .. annoying. And so damned MERLIN. 

"So -this- is why you are turning down a perfectly respectable wife? For some .. some -fling- with a Knight?" He feels as if he should be lecturing a handmaid, not his very male best friend! He has no problems with the flings that occur between the knights, he has seen it most of his life. Several Princes he had grown up with from other kingdoms were even encouraged to dally with other boys, to keep them from knocking up the serving girls, so it is not that odd. But to pass up a chance at marriage, at a family, because of it? Arthur just doesn't understand!

"You watch your tongue! King or not, I'll not stand about while you speak to Merlin that way!" Percival doesn't bother to move around Merlin, simply looms over him in a way that makes Arthur fear for his life. But not Merlin's. He's seen that kind of protectiveness before, nothing would hurt the other man with Percival around. That makes Arthur feel minutely better about the situation. 

"Percival, please. It's alright." Merlin reaches back, his fingers skating across the Knight's hip and Percival immediately quiets. Immediately wraps his arms around Merlin and tugs him back against his body. They look .. right. As if they -fit- and Arthur is a little, ridiculously jealous. "Arthur ... your highness .. this is -not- a fling. Percival is mine and I his. If we could, we would .. well. But we can't. That does not change how I feel about him, how he feels about me." 

"But you had a wife, a family!" Arthur snaps those words out, turning angry eyes on Percival who simply draws Merlin closer. Nuzzles along the curve of his temple with a sigh.

"I did ... and losing them nearly destroyed me. Merlin takes that pain away, gives me a reason to live and love. Is that not enough, sire?" Merlin's wide, expressive eyes shutter and close, a blush playing across his cheeks. In truth, Arthur has never seen his friend this animated, this ... hell. This in love.

"....fine." Arthur takes a deep breath and walks up to the two. He grabs Merlin by the shoulder and forces him from Percival's arms. In the next moment, his hands are full of the man's chainmail, yanking downward until they are face to face. "You will get a piece of gold of your choosing, and you will claim Merlin properly ... as properly as you can, at least. And if you -ever- hurt him, I will have you executed in the most public, humiliating way and I will let it be known that you deserve it. Do I make myself clear?"

Percival's eyes narrow, and then widen, a dumbfounded expression slackening his features before he lights up. He actually lifts Arthur in a full bodied hug, laughing almost hysterically.

"You have my promise that I will treat Merlin right, your highness!" Arthur grunts and struggles out of Percival's arms, before shoving the giant in Merlin's direction. 

"Go. Get out of here. Have the gold as soon as you can, Percival. I'll tell the Lord and Lady that there shall be no union." He watches the happy couple rush from the room, unable to hide the tired smile he has. He is happy that Merlin has found happiness, no matter how odd it is.

* * *

Exactly one week later, he spies a small, simple gold band on Merlin's thumb and he actually hugs his best friend in happiness. 

**Fin**


End file.
